


Strange Music

by mello_cellist



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Bog is a mysterious asshole, Bog is the cello king, Broken Hearts, Cellist, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending?, JUST KISS ALREADY, Musician Struggles, Roland (Strange Magic) Being an Asshole, Slight Stuff/Thang feels, Slight canon deviation, Slow Burn, Strange Magic, String Quartet, Violinist, Violist, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mello_cellist/pseuds/mello_cellist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU. Marianne had stopped playing the violin only to end up replacing her sister for a quartet practice. As Marianne gets to know the members of the quartet and as the strange music they play begins to lift her heart, she dares to hope for a new beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Marianne was determined to have a miserable time at her quartet practice. Her sister Dawn had scheduled another performance during the regularly scheduled practices, and had once again relied on Marianne to fill in for her. Marianne did, however, prefer to play in a group rather than as a solo, as Dawn practiced the violin more diligently than Marianne. For all of Marianne’s skill, she had struggled to learn the first violin part for the piece that Dawn’s quartet had been working on, the part that Dawn had given her three hours before the rehearsal. Marianne had not played with a quartet for months, since her harsh expulsion from the group that she had started herself. Dammit, Dawn, Marianne thought angrily, looking up at the house she hoped belonged to the cellist of Dawn’s quartet, Strange Music. The address had been scribbled down hastily by Dawn’s manager, Sunny, as he was nervously trying to hustle Dawn out the door and to the concert she was headlining, and Marianne had already been to two bad addresses. A short staircase led up to the front door, and in front of a small porch a cheery rock covered in flowers and paintings of birds proclaimed that the house belonged to the King’s. Marianne sighed and flipped her violin case over her shoulder, climbing the stairs warily. The house was rather simple and even a bit worn-down, as some of the siding was turning green with moss and some vines climbed the sides of the house, no doubt due to the large oak trees that shaded the entire lot. Marianne cringed when she saw the doorbell, which was very nearly brown with filth. She opted to knock on the pure white door, the only thing that didn’t look old and dirty. A rather raucous voice answered the knock, though the door didn’t open.  
“Is that my Dawn?” the voice squawked, sounding very female and rather low. Marianne winced a bit at it, and considered answering for a moment before heavy footsteps sounded, approaching the doorway.   
“I told you, Mother,” a deep voice answered, and Marianne could hear the locks being fiddled with. “Dawn is not coming. She has sent a substitute.” It sounded annoyed and Marianne found herself being rather annoyed with this voice. The door was gently pulled open, and Marianne looked up. And up. And up. And there was the face of a young man who looked quite bored, though his icy blue eyes sharply darted over her face and to her violin. Marianne’s first impression was that he was not very handsome; his hair was a deep brown, which should have complimented those piercing eyes, but just served to steep his face in shadow. His chin and nose were both very long, but his nose was straight and pointed, which should’ve looked regal but combined with his very thin cheeks and prominent cheekbones made him look thin and weary. “You are the violinist to substitute for Dawn?”  
“Yeah, I’m her sister Marianne,” Marianne replied to this deep-voiced, somewhat annoying man. She almost stuck her hand out to shake his, but a screen door prevented her from doing so.   
“You’re late,” the man replied instead of offering a name, and opened the door for Marianne. “Stuff and Thang are already here.”  
“It’d be easier to find your house if I could actually see it from the road,” Marianne replied by way of explanation, and swept by the man into a fairly small living room that she doubted that the quartet could play in comfortably. A taller, pleasantly plump young lady was tuning a violin and a very nervous-looking young man with incredibly thick glasses was sitting next to her with a viola, whispering to her.   
“Well,” the young man who had greeted Marianne at the door glared at her. “I’ll do my best to be more accommodating next time.” Every word dripped with unamused sarcasm. “Stuff, Thang, this is Marianne, Dawn’s sister. She’ll be playing with us. Marianne, this is Stephanie Crowley and Thomas Buckley.”  
“Call me Stuff,” Stephanie shifted her violin to one hand in order to shake Marianne’s. “Everyone does. Don’t ask me how I got it. And just call him Thang…he won’t answer to anything else.” Stuff gestured to the man with bottle cap glasses.   
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Thang shook Marianne’s hand as well, and he didn’t quite seem to be so nervous anymore.  
“I’m very honored to sit in with you all,” Marianne smiled at the two, and frowned at the young man who had shown her in. “Though I don’t think introductions are over yet.”  
“Oh, yeah, I’m Bog,” the young man muttered, turning his frosty eyes to a cello that sat beside a chair at the far end of a semicircle of four chairs. “I’m the cellist.”  
“I can tell,” Marianne replied stiffly, and unpacked her violin. “Let me tune before I give the A.” She began fiddling with the pegs on her instrument, a bit embarrassed that it was so out of tune, and was interrupted by deep plucking. She looked up to see Bog strumming his cello and plucking out a tune that she didn’t recognize. “Do you mind?” Marianne glared at Bog over her scroll.  
“Hm?” Bog asked a bit absentmindedly. “Oh. I usually give the A, if you’re ready to tune.”  
“Are you kidding me?” Marianne’s patience was already being tested. “The first violinist always gives the A.”  
“I just figured since yours is out of tune, I’d do it this rehearsal as well,” Bog shrugged, giving Marianne a challenging look. “Just so you can get the hang of playing with us, of course.”  
“This is only for this week,” Marianne glared at Bog. “Dawn will be back next week and you guys can all go back to normal, or whatever ‘normal’ is for you.”  
“Ha!” Bog let out a short bark of laughter. “You come to the first rehearsal, you are a part of the group. Even if Dawn could make the rehearsal next week, you’re the one we’re going to be used to playing with. You’re our first violinist, Marianne.”  
“No way,” Marianne stood up from her chair and nearly dropped her violin. “I don’t do ensembles.”  
“Look, you’re first violin, and you’ll get the solos that I don’t,” Bog replied, a hidden challenge in his words. “You won’t have to worry about not being in the spotlight, Princess.”  
“I don’t care about being in the spotlight,” Marianne protested, frowning at Bog. “I just…don’t play well with others, especially if they’re like you.”  
“Miss Marianne,” Stuff cleared her throat as though she was going to speak, but nudged Thang between the ribs. Some whispering ensued between the two:  
You tell her, she likes you better.  
Really? You think so?  
Sure! Bog likes you better too.  
That’s so nice!  
“We’d be very honored if you’d play with us,” Thang spoke up boldly, a confidant look on his face. “Bog here can’t seem to keep a violinist for more than one rehearsal.”  
“Thank you, Thang,” Bog hissed, turning a very violent scowl on the violist, who turned back to Stuff and began whispering again. “However, if you’re not up to the challenge, we do have some very important gigs coming up, and we don’t have time for a little ‘fairy princess’.”  
“Oh, I’m not the fairy princess here,” Marianne growled, but she sat back down in the chair for the first violinist. “Just give me a damn A.”  
“With pleasure,” Bog smirked. “Once you’re tuned, maybe you feel like giving us a bit of a demonstration?” Marianne noticed that Stuff sighed heavily and rolled her eyes while Thang flinched. She looked back at Bog, whose smirk contained something a bit malicious.  
“Of course,” Marianne replied haughtily. “Just don’t get too intimidated there, King.” Bog scowled at the name but provided an A for Marianne, and she went on to tune her strings in succession, ending on her E string. All was silent for a moment as Marianne got herself into position, and when she was sure that all of the players’ eyes were on her, she erupted into the violin solo from Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto 1. The melody was rather sickly sweet, and Marianne was concentrating on her vibrato when a deep sound cut through it all. Marianne was so shocked that she actually lowered her instrument and saw Bog simply bowing his open C string with a grin that screamed a challenge. Their eyes met, and Bog’s fingers flew up the C major scale and then stopped on a Bb, the note jarring to the ears as he very slowly slid it right back up to C. Marianne was furious. She put her violin back into position and attacked the Mendelssohn again, with more vigor and more ferocity. No longer was this a sickly sweet ballad, but a fight that she was determined to win. As Marianne broke in the piece where the orchestra would play, Bog’s C string rang out again and his eyes bore straight into Marianne’s. She could not look away as Bog played the opening riff to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. Marianne was taken aback to say the least, and as the first verse began, he nodded to Marianne with a raised brow. There was a challenge in that look, a challenge that Marianne would not pass up. She brought her bow down on the strings with a crunch, and began the melody line. It’s in C major, Marianne thought ruefully. He’s playing with me. The melody was fairly simple to work out once she had figured out what key it was in, and as Bog kept a steady bass line going along with some chnks with his bow to mark rhythm, Marianne heard Thang’s viola provide backup to Bog’s line, and Stuff’s confident playing added a playful duet to her melody. Marianne laughed, her eyes wide; it had been many months since she remembered actually having fun playing her violin. Eventually, however, the song had to end, and all members of the quartet were breathing heavily. Bog’s eyes were locked on Marianne, and she met his stare with an upturned chin as if to say, “well? Do you deem me worthy?”  
“That was awesome!” Thang gaped at Marianne. “That’s the first time someone has passed the test that quickly!”  
“It seems that Miss Marianne has a few tricks up her sleeve,” Bog noted, looking curiously at this young lady, who was possibly just as talented as her famous sister. However, he had only heard of Dawn Primrose, or rather, she had heard of him. He scrutinized this sister, whose cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of red as her chest heaved with the exertion of playing. She certainly was not hard on the eyes, but Bog had noticed a bit of a slump in her shoulders that was rather familiar to him…the slump of defeat, of somebody that had given up. He’d be lying to himself if he said it didn’t intrigue him.  
“Well, Bog King?” Marianne flashed a cocky grin at the cellist and raised an eyebrow. The quiet man had been studying her and she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable as her thoughts flashed to another. Bog noticed that slump return and quickly cleared his throat.  
“Not bad, princess,” he teased right back, placing his bow on his stand and leaning on his cello. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see how you fare in the first gig.”  
“Well, what is it?” Marianne asked impatiently.  
“Your sister’s manager hooked us up at one of those high-society tea parties,” Stuff remarked excitedly. “We have to wear formal dress and everything! It’s in a few months.” Marianne noticed Bog shifting uncomfortably in his chair and thought with pleasure that he didn’t seem to like what Stuff dubbed “high society”. Boy, is he in for a surprise.  
“Music,” Bog stated firmly, and began handing out parts after gently laying his cello down on the carpet. “We’ll play mostly Mozart and Haydn quartets so it’ll be pretty light. I’m afraid Beethoven is a bit over the heads of our high-society friends.” Marianne perked up a bit at Beethoven.  
“I like Beethoven quartets over Mozart or Haydn,” Marianne cut in excitedly. “We should definitely play a few of those!”  
“Although I share your love of Beethoven,” Bog nodded at the girl, “We cannot choose what we want to play; I got a list of approved music from the clients last week and bought the parts.” Marianne’s shoulders dropped a bit, but she would be lying to herself if she wasn’t a bit excited to play with a group again, especially a group of such interesting people. “Also,” Bog began, waving his hand in front of Marianne’s face to get her attention. “I can’t hold every rehearsal at my house…”  
“Why not?” Marianne narrowed her eyes at the tall man.  
“Because I—” Bog began, but was interrupted by that raucous voice Marianne had first heard when she knocked on the door.   
“Of course you can have all of your rehearsals here, dear!” a comically short woman backed out of a swinging door with a tray of what looked like freshly baked cookies and four glasses of milk. Marianne nearly laughed out loud at the horrified expression on Bog’s face. “Your friends are so lovely! What’s your name, dear?” the woman turned to Marianne with a huge smile on her face.   
“Mother, please,” Bog glared at his mother and nearly growled. Marianne thought that she might throw up from trying not to laugh.  
“Am I not allowed to meet your friends?” Bog’s mother smiled serenely at her son. “I was just wondering who this very lovely young lady is.”  
“It’s Dawn’s sister Marianne,” Bog’s voice was clipped and he was sitting very stiffly in his chair. “Excuse us, Mother. This is a private rehearsal.”  
“What a mean son I have raised!” Bog’s mother sniffled, placing the tray down on a nearby piano stool and deliberately slowly making her way back into what Marianne assumed was the kitchen. Bog was literally growling now and had his head in his large hands and by the time his mother glanced around for the third time he exploded.  
“FINE! Just SIT on that bench and DON’T ask my group your silly questions,” Bog roared, hands balling into fists. Marianne’s eyes widened and she looked at Bog’s mother, but Mrs. King just beamed at her son and sat on the piano bench with the tray beside her. Stuff and Thang just shared knowing looks and snorted. Marianne detected a weird lilt to Bog’s voice, almost like an accent that his mother did not share. “The rehearsal’s almost over anyways. Now, WHO wants to host next week’s rehearsal?” Bog was still yelling a bit and Marianne flinched, which directed his gaze to her. “Is that a volunteer?”  
“Whatever,” Marianne muttered, glaring at Bog. “I’m not having it every week at my house, either. We’re going to trade off.” Bog lifted his leering brows in surprise but decided to keep his mouth closed.  
“So the rehearsal’s over!” Bog’s mother exclaimed, hopping off of the bench and walking over to take Marianne’s hand. “I’m Griselda. So, how old are you, dearie?”  
“Mother!” Bog snarled, shooting another leer at his mother. “Leave Marianne alone.”  
“You never let me talk to any of your musician friends,” Griselda sighed sadly. Marianne hid another giggle as she began packing her violin back up. She grabbed a cookie with one hand and shouldered her violin case with the other.   
“Thanks for letting us practice here,” Marianne nodded to Griselda and Bog. “It was nice meeting all of you.”  
“Your address,” Bog didn’t so much as glance up from where he was putting his cello back into a soft case on the floor. Marianne rolled her eyes and pulled a marker out of her pocket and grabbed one of Bog’s long arms. She scrawled down the street and house number as well as her name and capped the marker. Bog looked at her, then his arm. “Gee, thanks.”  
“See you guys next week,” Marianne waved at the members of her new ensemble and walked back out the door and into her car. She took a very deep breath and leaned her head on the steering wheel. Yes, she’d had a wonderful time with the little bit that they had all played together, but it had felt the same way in her own group. Dawn had certainly been worried that it might force Marianne into the near-hibernation that she’d been in after the breakup of the last quartet she’d played in. Marianne was determined to show Dawn, and this new group, that she was ready to let music back into her life.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second rehearsal begins, Bog meets Dawn and Marianne's father, and I try to hint at Boggy's tortured past.

Bog looked at the paper that was supposed to have Marianne’s address copied onto it, and then back at the mansion that he stood in front of. His mouth had already been dropped open for a while now, but he couldn’t close it. Sure, Dawn was famous enough to tour, but even professional musicians didn’t make quite enough money to buy a house like this. Suffice it to say, Bog felt very embarrassed about his own home, which had earned him his little pet name. He rolled his shoulder that the strap for his soft cello case rested on and walked up the drive of the mansion and onto a large porch. He rang the doorbell and looked for Stuff and Thang’s cars, but did not see them. I’m the first one here…? Bog thought in surprise. Stuff liked to be early, and that meant that Thang, who was always being chauffeured around by her, was early as well. The door opened and Marianne was looking at him with a self-satisfied grin.  
“Afternoon, Bog,” she saluted him and held the door open. “I hope you’re not too shocked.”  
“No, I—” Bog began, but found that he couldn’t really make any words come out.   
“Come on in,” Marianne said smugly, ushering the tall man inside. He cleared his throat and walked in, stooping so that he didn’t hit his head on the doorframe. “Let’s eat before the others come.”  
“Eat?” Bog gave Marianne a confused look. She rolled her eyes.  
“Yeah, you’re just in time for ‘high tea’,” Marianne said a bit sarcastically, which made the corner of Bog’s mouth twitch. “You can put your cello down in the tea room, that’s where we’ll be practicing as soon as I shoo my father out.” She began walking up the grand stair to the double doors at the top, but soon realized that Bog wasn’t following her. He was staring up at the chandelier, her father’s pride and joy, with his mouth slightly open in amazement. “Yeah, that’s my dad’s,” Marianne grinned at the man’s expression. “Pretty much the whole house is his baby…”  
“You…you have a lovely home,” Bog’s voice was still weak with shock. “It’s…bigger than I thought it would be.”  
“Yeah, well,” Marianne shrugged. “It’s big for sure. It’s a bit too much room, since it’s just me, Dawn, and my dad.” Bog nodded and his brows lowered, making his resting face look rather grumpy. Marianne waited until his long strides took him up the stairs to stand beside her, and they moved to the top of the grand staircase in silence. Marianne stopped in front of a pair of large double doors that were directly behind the staircase and turned to Bog.  
“Where do those go?” Bog gestured with his chin to two other, smaller, staircases that led to opposite sides of the house.  
“The one on the left leads to my father’s wing, and the one on the right leads to Dawn and mine’s,” Marianne replied nonchalantly, before nodding to the room in front of them. “This is the tea room, and our practice room.” She threw the double doors open to a very sunny sitting room. Bog’s eyebrows shot up in shock as he surveyed the room; sunlight poured in through the large windows that stretched from ceiling to floor on the opposite wall of the room. The room featured simply a white coat of paint on the walls, some plastic chairs set up in a semicircle, and a large round table that was surrounded by white dining chairs. The table was set up by the windows, and Bog could see that three of the chairs at this table were occupied by none other than Dawn and two other men, one rather younger than the other.   
“It’s Boggy!” Dawn squealed, setting her teacup down rather ferociously and jumping out of her chair to skip over to Bog and Marianne. “Come and have some tea with us!” Marianne rolled her eyes and smiled at her sister’s sunny personality.  
“Uh, Bog,” Bog leered a bit at Dawn but followed her to the tea table. Marianne was very gratified that he hadn’t reacted too negatively to Dawn’s effusions, and followed the pair to the table grinning.  
“Boggy, this is my daddy, Arthur Primrose,” Dawn smiled sunnily up at the uncomfortable Bog and gestured to the older man who was sitting at the table. She then danced over to the younger man and slung an arm around his shoulders. “This is my manager, Sunny Daley.” Sunny grinned up at Bog and raised his teacup to him cheerfully.  
“Welcome to my home, Mr. King,” Arthur stuck his hand out to Bog, who seemed to shake it in a daze. “I’ve heard so much about you from my girls.” Bog shot a glance at Marianne, who had sat down beside her sister and taken a mug from the center of the table. She just shrugged and grinned evilly at him over her mug.  
“What do you like to drink, Boggy?” Dawn asked Bog, sitting in between Sunny and Marianne and grinning widely at him.  
“Bog,” Bog grumbled, taking his cello off of his back and sitting down between Marianne and her father. “I don’t much care for tea, thank you.”  
“Neither does Marianne,” Dawn shrugged and continued to smile at Bog. “Do you want hot chocolate instead?”  
“Sure,” Bog mumbled, glancing over at Marianne. She was now looking out the window at some of the loveliest flower gardens he’d ever seen, blowing on what he assumed was hot chocolate.  
“So, Bog,” Arthur addressed the newest member of the party. “You’re a cellist? Dawn here says that you’re very talented.”  
“Boggy is the best cellist ever!” Dawn gushed, which drew Marianne’s gaze from the flowers. Marianne scrutinized Dawn and it appeared that her sister had, for the time being, set her romantic sights on Bog. Marianne rolled her eyes at the thought, as her sister was constantly chasing after some new man. As one of the top violinists in the country, Dawn did indeed have her pick of men, and it was something Marianne had recently decided was annoying.  
“Bog,” Bog corrected again, through gritted teeth. Marianne winced a bit. She hadn’t wanted to expose Bog to this much ridiculousness. “My mother wanted a musical child, and my father loved the cello, so my music career started young,” Bog stated roughly, long fingers grasping a mug that Arthur’s butler had handed to him.  
“I’ve not heard your name mentioned among some of Dawn’s peers,” Arthur remarked curiously, sipping his tea innocently. “Do you not play professionally?” Bog shifted uncomfortably in his chair before Marianne slammed her hands on the table.  
“Father, I think that I hear Stuff and Thang at the door. Would you come with me to help them in, Bog?” Marianne proclaimed, jumping up from her chair and grabbing Bog’s shoulder roughly. Bog nodded emphatically and also got up from his chair, setting his mug gently down on the tea table.  
“Excuse me,” Bog said courteously before practically running out the double doors.  
“Sorry about that,” Marianne laughed nervously, trying to relieve some of the tension that Bog carried in his shoulders. “My dad can be…insensitive about people’s situations in life.”  
“No, it’s not your fault,” Bog replied softly, and when Marianne looked at his face, it was thoughtful. “Thank you for…helping me escape, I guess.”  
“The King humbles himself to thank me?” Marianne fake-gasped, knocking Bog’s shoulder with hers playfully. “High praise indeed!”  
“Whatever,” Bog’s mouth twitched into something resembling a crooked smile. “You’re still just a princess.”  
“Woah, Marianne!” Thang’s normally high voice was taken up even higher in surprise. “You didn’t tell us you were rich!”  
“A bit insensitive, don’t you think, Thang?” Bog snapped impatiently. “Maybe you should keep your observations to yourself.”  
“…Even professional musicians don’t get paid this much,” Thang mumbled inaudibly and abashedly. Stuff patted his shoulder and grinned at Bog and Marianne.  
“So, where are we set up?” she asked after taking a good look at Arthur’s chandelier.  
“We’re going to be in the tea room,” Marianne waved her arm up the stairs. “Here, I’ll lead the way.” The quartet made their way up the grand staircase and happened to bump into Arthur, who was leaving the tea room.  
“Ah, so this is the rest of your quartet, Marianne?” Arthur smiled, but scrutinized Stuff and Thang closely. “Should you ever decide to start recording professionally, you must come to me first. I insist.”  
“Sure, dad,” Marianne sighed and waved her father off. “We’re going to start rehearsal now, so I’ll talk to you later.”  
“Have fun, Princess,” Arthur kissed his daughter on the head and waved to the rest of the quartet as he started up the smaller staircase on the left side of the doors.   
“That was Arthur Primrose,” Stuff gaped, slowly following Marianne into the tea room, but casting glances over her shoulder all the while. “The music producer?!” Marianne winced.  
“Yeah, he’s a music producer,” Marianne replied a bit uncomfortably. “I like to think that we just live a normal life here, though.”  
“Living in a mansion isn’t—” Thang began to say, but a larger foot on his caused whatever the rest of his sentence was to turn into a yelp of pain.  
“Come on, let’s get started,” Bog stated rather impatiently, as he stalked over to his cello and pretended to be innocent. Marianne smiled widely and failed to hide it as she picked her own violin up off of a violin stand in the corner of the room. The violin stood beside a few others, all Dawn’s, and beside several bows that hung on a few pegs on the wall. Marianne then walked over to the double doors and closed them, also locking them to the outside in the process, and sat down in her designated chair in the semicircle. Bog was shifting around in his own chair and adjusting his endpin, and Stuff sat down beside Marianne and began tightening her bow. “Hurry up, Thang,” Bog growled at the violist, who jumped and scrambled to the seat beside Bog. Marianne noticed that Bog was about to put his bow on the A string in order to tune the group, and so she decided to put a stop to it.   
“Here’s your A, everybody,” she smiled sweetly at Bog and her open A string rang through the room. Bog frowned at her, but he had that odd, possibly crooked smile on his face as well. He did tune to Marianne’s A, and she took that as a good sign. She wasn’t going to let him boss her around; she was going to show him just what they all had gotten into. “I think that we should start—”  
“I think that we should start with Haydn Number 25, Opus 17,” Bog interrupted, tilting his long chin upward confidently at Marianne and giving her a definite smirk. Marianne met his challenge with a raised brow of her own and nodded in defiant acceptance.   
~*~  
“I think that’s enough practice for today,” Marianne lowered her violin and surveyed the quartet with a smile. The practice had lasted for two hours, and went very well. “I guess I’ll see you all next week at the King’s house.”  
“Hey, Marianne,” Stuff approached the girl slowly before packing up her instrument as the guys were doing. Marianne looked up curiously at the violinist, who was plucking the instrument a bit nervously. “I was wondering if we could all…exchange numbers? I was just thinking that we should have a way to communicate with each other.”  
“Of course, Stuff,” Marianne replied with a wide grin. “I had wanted to do that, but I totally forgot! Thang, Bog, come over here.” Marianne barked at the guys, who jumped and speed-walked over to where Marianne stood. She whipped the marker out of her pocket and began writing on Stuff’s arm first. “I’m going to give you all my number,” Marianne began, then switching to Thang’s arm. “Text me so that I know who you are, and then we’ll all have each other’s numbers.” Marianne grinned as she reached for Bog’s arm, only for him to flip it away from her.  
“Use the other one,” Bog grumbled, exposing his left arm to the impatient girl. “I still can’t wash your damn address off.” Marianne laughed.  
“It’s good to know that I can always use this marker to mess with your face!” Marianne, instead of capping the marker, stood on her tiptoes and drew a hasty mustache on Bog’s face with the marker.  
“This is one fight you don’t want to get into,” Bog warned, a mischievous look washing over his entire face. Marianne stuck her tongue out at him, capped the marker, and stuck it in her back pocket. “What, you think I won’t get it from there?” Marianne’s face instantly became serious and she took up a fighting stance.  
“I don’t think you want to try,” Marianne replied coldly, but she became quite confused when Bog erupted in deep laughter. It wasn’t a chuckle or a giggle of any sort, but a full and deep belly laugh.   
“I was joking, Marianne,” Bog gasped, and only doubled over in laughter was he at eye level with Marianne. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Marianne retorted, flustered by the unexpected teasing. “I’ll see you next week, Boggy.” Bog wiped a tear from his eye and shouldered his cello case, a full-fledged smile on his face. Marianne practically stared; this was the first time that she’d ever seen the guy pull an actual smile, and she had to admit, he looked a lot more attractive when he did.   
“Come on, Tough Girl,” Bog flung over his shoulder as he followed Stuff and Thang to the door. “See us out.” Marianne shook her head and followed the rest of her quartet to the door.   
“That was fun, guys,” Marianne grinned at the three musicians on her doorstep. Stuff whispered something to Thang, who then cleared his throat as Stuff took a step back.  
“Thank you for having us, Marianne,” Thang said courteously. “Stuff and I had a lot of fins.” Immediately, Bog turned to glare at Thang.  
“Is that really what Stuff said, Thang?” Bog facepalmed, and looked at Marianne. “Thang is very hard of hearing. I’m sure that he and Stuff had a lot of fun. As did I.” Marianne laughed and assured a stammering Thang that all was well and understood.   
“Well, Boggy,” Marianne grinned at the cellist as Stuff and Thang pulled out of her driveway. “You had fun, huh?” Bog winced.  
“Bog,” he corrected with an eye twitch. “You’re a very talented player…just don’t get too full of yourself, Tough Girl.” Marianne slapped Bog on the shoulder in a very friendly manner, but he was too tall to be pitched forward. Bog scowled at her in response.  
“I wish I could say the same for you,” Marianne teased, grinning.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, after that audition, I was expecting…more?” Marianne raised her eyebrows at the man playfully. “You know, like AC/DC or Deep Purple instead of Haydn.” Bog glowered at the woman with an even deeper scowl.  
“That’s only for playing around,” he stated. “We do have to learn these pieces for a gig, you know.”  
“Maybe we’re playing the wrong gigs,” Marianne’s smile turned a bit sour. “If you know what I’m talking about.” Bog narrowed his eyes, but did not push the young woman. Clearly, she did not like being around high society more than she already was, and yet…he could tell that Marianne did love playing the violin.   
“Well, yeah,” Bog mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “The gigs you want to play the least also pay the best. I’m hoping this is the group that can go to the Banff International String Quartet Competition.”  
“Wow,” Marianne’s eyes were no longer pinched together in irritation, Bog noticed, but wide in curiosity. “You have your sights set pretty high. I wish I could be so ambitious.”  
“It’s not ambitiousness,” Bog corrected, giving that almost-smile that Marianne was nearly certain now was just a frown in disguise. “Let’s just call it…fulfilling a dream for somebody else.”  
“Bog,” Marianne began, and Bog was surprised to see her look strangely understanding.   
“Marianne, it’s time for supper!” Dawn’s voice echoed through the cavernous emptiness of the mansion. “Hurry up and come inside! And give Boggy a biiiig hug for me!” A gentle, loving smile spread over Marianne’s face, almost unwarily. Though Dawn could get on her nerves, and the whole “Boggy” was getting a tad overused, Marianne truly loved her sister and only wanted the best for her.   
“Well, I’ll see you next week, King,” Marianne’s grin was small but genuine as she waved goodbye to Bog.  
“Better actually practice for next week, Tough Girl,” Bog shouldered his cello and walked out of Marianne’s door, only turning around to shoot a parting line: “I’m done going easy on you.” Bog was not frowning as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thang, he gets a lot of shit. >.> I know it's been a while since I last uploaded, but I promise I have a bunch more chapters written! This semester has been quite a bitch so far, but I am really trying to find time to give to this story and to you readers. Thank you for the support and I will be talking a lot more in the next chapter!


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bog unsuccessfully keeps a secret, Marianne is sassy, and my actual reaction to these two is revealed.

A few days had passed since the quartet had gotten together, and Marianne was trying very hard to practice, but having little luck. Every time that Marianne got her violin out, Dawn also suddenly had the need to practice for her numerous appearances. It was on such a day when Marianne’s cell phone vibrated and she used this as an excuse to escape from Dawn’s fawning and rather spotty practicing.  
“Marianne, weren’t you going to practice with me?” Dawn stuck her lower lip out and pouted.  
“Not right now, Dawn,” Marianne replied, looking down at her phone and starting when she saw the name of the text-sender. “This is kind of important. We can practice together later today.” She kissed Dawn on her forehead and left the sitting room, going up to her own bedroom and sitting on the bed to read the text.

To: Marianne, Stuff, Thang  
From: Boggy Kingy-Wingy  
Subject: Strange Music  
"I have a conflict with our usual rehearsal time this week. Would you guys be able to reschedule for another day?"

Marianne stared at the text with a bit of confusion as well as annoyance at her sister’s change of Bog’s contact name. Bog had always seemed like the least likely of the group to cancel, what with everything that he had said the day before. She decided to immediately text back:

To: Boggy Kingy-Wingy  
Re: Strange Music  
"Chickening out, King?"

Marianne lay back on her bed and let out a deep sigh. She had been looking forward to practicing with the group again. Even though she had convinced herself that playing in another group was something that she did not desire, Marianne was exhilarated to have these new people, who all seemed very considerate, in her life. A vibration on her stomach caused Marianne to nearly rocket upward in anticipation.

"You would know, Tough Girl. But unlike some other people, I actually have a social life."

Marianne grinned and quickly shot a text back.

"That’s not what you were saying yesterday."

As soon as she’d sent the text, Marianne thought a bit. What if he was missing the practice due to a death in his family? What if he had caught a deadly illness? She quickly typed a new text message:

"Is everything okay?"

It seemed like ages until Marianne got a response from Bog, and it was long enough for her to think up every possible scenario that could be keeping him from the practice.

"Yeah, I just have a family thing to go to. Worried about me, Tough Girl?"

Marianne growled in frustration at the man. I try to be nice, and what do I get? She thought in frustration. Men were all the same. They thought that being nice was a sin or someth- The phone vibrated again and Marianne looked at the text with a feeling of immense confusion as an odd warmth that spread through her chest, a feeling that she thought she’d never feel again.

"Thanks."  
~*~  
Marianne sighed, looking at her watch on the Wednesday of that particular week. This was the day that the quartet would usually practice, but they’d all decided to just meet up the following Wednesday as any other day was met with conflict on at least one person’s end, which ended up with Marianne taking a ride on a dirty city bus when she would’ve much rather been playing with the quartet. Arthur had forgotten his lunch at home that day, as he had many times before, and as Dawn was going to an autograph-signing session, the duty fell upon Marianne to deliver her father’s lunch to him. She knew the route to the studio quite well, but unfortunately she had to ride a bus to it. I hate the disgusting air in here, Marianne thought, making a face as she noticed that her right hand was sticky. Maybe Dad will let me just drive his car home… She removed her hand from the overhead bar and looked around for something to wipe her hand on when movement towards the front of the bus caught her attention. A very familiar, tall man with a case on his back was trying to squeeze his way onto the bus. Bog frowned at the amount of people on the bus; there was no way he’d be able to fit on there, let alone with his cello case. He sighed and looked at his watch nervously. He’d gotten held up at the coffee shop and now was almost late for the recording session. Bog had no choice; he would have to walk the ten blocks to the recording studio and hope that the orchestra would wait for him. As he dejectedly got back off of the bus, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. Bog looked up to find Marianne squeezing through the crowd of people and stepping off of the bus to join him.  
“Fancy seeing you here, King,” Marianne arched a brow at the young man, who was merely studying her with that bored expression of his. “I thought you had somewhere to be, canceling on us all like that.”  
“Yes, well,” Bog cleared his throat, something that Marianne noticed he did when he was nervous. “I do have somewhere to be…I’m actually quite late, so if you’ll excuse me…”  
“Well, where are you headed?” Marianne asked, not letting the man escape. He was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what was so important. “Maybe we could walk part of the way together.”  
“Where are you headed?” Bog replied suspiciously, looking down at her impatiently. He hoped to avoid telling her what he had planned for today for as long as possible.  
“I have to give my dad his lunch over at the studio,” Marianne held up a brown bag that had “Daddy” written on it, surrounded by little hearts and flowers. Bog snorted at the design.  
“You’ve done a lovely job decorating it,” his mouth twitched into that almost-smile. Marianne seemed to take the hint and had dropped the subject of where he was going.  
“Yeah right,” Marianne stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Who likes this stuff?”  
“Not me,” Bog sniffed in disapproval.  
“Well, I hate it,” Marianne crossed her arms and smiled ruefully.  
“I hate it more,” Bog replied stonily, hoping to end the conversation there and beginning to walk down the street. However, Marianne was soon walking beside him, almost jogging in order to keep up with his long strides.  
“Oh yeah?” Marianne challenged Bog yet again. “I think they’re all fools.”  
“They’re just rushing in,” Bog agreed, looking down at the girl who held more spite in her for the notion of love than he had thought. “They…can’t help it.” He pitched his voice as high as it could go, attempting—and failing—to mimic a Valley Girl. Marianne chuckled at this appreciatively.  
“They’re in chains that bind you,” Marianne added distastefully, but Bog’s impression and his expression of amusement made it impossible to be entirely serious about the subject. She was surprised that Bog often made her laugh even when she felt that familiar surge of anger and betrayal. She was actually enjoying herself immensely, and didn’t even notice when Bog stopped in front of her father’s music studio until he cleared his throat.  
“It was…lovely…to see you,” Bog forced out, and even though he grimaced as he forced the words out, it did not leave his mouth with a bad taste. In fact, he had to acknowledge that the statement was true. Rarely did Bog have the luxury of bantering with someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, as Stuff was the boldest one of the small group of friends he entertained, and Thang was always saying something that was, in Bog’s opinion, stupid. He opened the door for Marianne, gesturing her inside before him, and decided that he would walk the block until he was sure that she was gone before heading inside, himself.  
“Thanks, Boggy,” Marianne grinned at waved at the cellist.  
“Bog,” Bog corrected again, although his mouth twitched upward slightly even as he said it. “If you really were a tough girl, you’d have opened it yourself.”  
“Hey, I thanked you, didn’t I?” Marianne placed her hands on her hips and glared at Bog, who suddenly seemed to notice that he was still holding the door open.  
“Well…I’ll see you next week,” he waved awkwardly and closed the door before walking away. Marianne waved back and turned to see one of her father’s many assistants standing behind a polished mahogany desk, merely staring at her.  
“Hey, June,” Marianne sighed, plopping herself down on the receptionist’s desk. “Dad forgot his lunch today, again.”  
“Believe me, Marianne,” June laughed at the young girl’s bored expression. “Your father noticed. What I wasn’t expecting was that you’d be walking in with that guy who’s recording today.”  
“What do you mean?” Marianne wrinkled her eyebrow in confusion.  
“That young man with you,” June replied cheerily, looking in the bagged lunch Marianne had set on the desk. “Oh, your father won’t shut up about these brownies.”  
“There’s a few extra in there, so make sure he shares,” Marianne straightened and picked herself up off of the desk. “What do you mean, he’s recording today?”  
“Oh, he’s part of the community orchestra,” June reached into the bag nonchalantly and emerged with a thick brownie. “He actually wrote the piece that they’re recording, I guess? But he’s also playing in it, which confuses me. I didn’t think that songwriters performed their own songs.” Marianne, however, didn’t catch this last part as she was lost in very confusing thoughts. Why hadn’t Bog told them that he had written a piece? More importantly, why didn’t he tell them that he played in the community orchestra? I guess I could understand if he didn’t tell me, Marianne thought a bit angrily. But why wouldn’t he tell Stuff and Thang? I thought they were all really close friends. “Oh, hello sir,” June piped up happily, turning Marianne’s attention to the tall man who had just walked through the studio doors.  
“Hi,” Bog replied curtly, walking closer to the desk until he saw Marianne leaning on it casually, fixing him with an accusatory stare. His first thought was that he should’ve just told her that he was recording today…it would’ve no doubt spared him the immense feeling of discomfort that washed over him now. “Marianne, uh…”  
“Hey, Bog,” Marianne greeted the man rather coldly, and he winced. The last time she’d called him by just Bog, it had felt heavy and serious, as the air did right now.  
“Marianne, I can explain,” Bog shifted his cello awkwardly. “I just didn’t want the quartet to think that I would prioritize it under this, and—”  
“Even though that is what you’re doing,” Marianne frowned at the stammering Bog. She wasn’t really mad, just confused…and she wanted to watch the man squirm.  
“You see, Marianne,” Bog paused a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He cursed inwardly; did he really think she’d have been gone by one walk around the block? “I…I’ve been working on this piece for a really long time and I wanted to make sure everything went well at the recording.”  
“What piece?” Marianne demanded, an idea forming in her head.  
“It’s an orchestral piece,” Bog replied, squirming as Marianne had hoped. “I wrote it for—”  
“King! There you are!” a sharp voice cut through Bog’s and he winced. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago! Time is money, you know!” Bog looked beyond Marianne to see Mr. Steele, the conductor of the community orchestra, tapping his foot impatiently and glaring at him. “You told us you’d be here. It’s your song, and you’re still late!”  
“I’ll be there in two minutes, Steele,” Bog growled at the man, hoping that he’d just leave it at that. Steele narrowed his eyes at Bog and nodded, whipping on his heel and striding back the way he had come. Bog then turned to Marianne, who he was surprised to see had a slight smile on her face. “Marianne, I didn’t want to hold information from you, but…”  
“Bog,” Marianne began slowly, glancing up at the man from under her eyelashes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me…I know that there are some things that are better kept to ourselves.” Bog looked at her a bit suspiciously. She was drawn in around herself and not looking directly at him.  
“Thank you, Marianne,” Bog replied instead, scrutinizing the young woman. He sighed heavily and she finally looked at him curiously. “Since you have…invaded this rehearsal already, it seems, would you like to listen to us record?” Marianne was shocked; this had been, a minute ago, such a private part of Bog’s life that he hadn’t wanted even his closest friends to know about it. And yet here he was, inviting a girl that he’d known for nearly a month, into his private life. Yet there was an odd look in his eyes, a look that almost, but not quite, pleaded with her to listen to his strange music.  
“You really want me to listen to it?” Marianne asked doubtfully, now no longer looking at Bog from an angle but really looking straight into those bright blue eyes.  
“Yeah…” Bog scratched the back of his head awkwardly, but he did not break eye contact with Marianne. She felt the warm feeling spreading through her chest again as she saw him visibly soften. “I mean…if you want to hear it.”  
“Sure,” Marianne murmured, turning her head down in order to hide the sudden warmth spreading across her cheeks. Bog then chose the moment to be unexpectedly gentlemanly and held out his arm for Marianne to take and with a surprised look at the stony face, she slipped her arm through his and the two made their way downstairs.  
“They are so into each other,” June commented to herself, sighing and shoving another brownie into her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I know it's been a long time. (dodges missiles) I've been very busy with school, and I'm also getting married in May, so planning has also taken up a good chunk of time. I've never forgotten about this, and I've actually been adding to it in my spare time, so I have quite a bit written. So much that I hope to start updating this weekly. Like I've said from the beginning with this, there is a good deal more on Fanfiction.net, but if you're willing to be patient, I'll likely be updating this one sooner than I'll be updating that one.  
> Thanks to everyone that has left kudos on this! And you have my permission to PM me, leave a comment, or do anything you deem necessary to remind me to update this. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marianne hears some of Bog's music.

“What kind of piece is it?” Marianne asked curiously, turning her head to her companion as they approached the studio door.  
“It’s an orchestral piece,” Bog replied curtly, offering nothing else. Marianne glanced sideways at the man, whose mouth was set in a thin line and whose stare was hard as rock.   
“Don’t be nervous,” Marianne stated nonchalantly, and she felt Bog’s arm tighten. “I’m sure it’s a wonderful piece.”  
“That isn’t—” Bog began to exclaim impatiently, when suddenly the studio door was banged open. It was Bog’s mother, Griselda, and she positively beamed at Marianne.  
“Oh, hello again, dearie!” Griselda practically skipped over and leaned in to Marianne’s personal space conspiratorially. “Don’t you have a comb?” Griselda whispered to Marianne, who leaned back and shot a confused look at the small woman. Griselda proceeded to make hair-combing motions at Marianne until Bog decided to turn his glare in her direction.  
“What are you doing here, mother?” he sighed in exasperation. “I thought you were going to lunch today with your friends.”  
“Oh, I was, but then I thought about how you didn’t bring anything to eat and I couldn’t just let my precious boy go hungry!” Griselda exclaimed excitedly. “I know that there was that lovely cellist I wanted you to ask out, so I was going to—”  
“Yes, thank you, mother,” Bog growled, pushing past his mother and into the biggest recording room that the studio had. “Come on, Marianne.” Marianne reluctantly followed Bog into the room, glancing back to make sure that Griselda was following. What she was not expecting was the applause that greeted Bog. She looked around the room to see dozens of instrumentalists, of all ages and gender, putting their instruments on their chairs and clapping, some even whistling. Marianne glanced at Bog and almost burst out laughing; he wore a very deep scowl and did not even acknowledge the applause, merely setting his cello down near a group of chairs set up for a few spectators and the men who would be recording the group. The applause didn’t die down until Bog had taken his cello out of its case and sat down in the first chair of the cello section, the place of the king.   
“Come, dear,” Griselda looped her arm through Marianne’s and dragged her over to the chairs. “Let’s sit down, it’s about to start!”  
“Um, okay,” Marianne mumbled, scanning her eyes over the orchestra. It was so different from anything that she had encountered in her own musical career; Arthur had always made sure that his girls went to the finest conservatories and had the best teachers, therefore Marianne and Dawn had never really interacted with people who weren’t professional musicians or related to a professional musician. These people were from all walks of life, and Marianne did not recognize a single one, but they laughed and talked amongst themselves with such an air of comradery that it almost caused physical pain with the jealousy that wracked Marianne’s body. She had had that kind of friendship once…  
“Are you okay, dear?” Griselda bent to look at Marianne, who had unconsciously doubled over in her chair. “You look a bit pale. Do you feel alright?”  
“I’m fine, sorry,” Marianne forced a smile and immediately stood upright. “Just feeling a bit sick. So, how long has Bog written music?”  
“Well,” Griselda began with a huge smile, which made Marianne feel as though she shouldn’t have asked. “My dear little Bog has always written music, that’s what made his father and I decide to have him play an instrument. He was always playing my husband’s old piano, and he could really make it sing…Bog is the light of my life.” Griselda smiled over at her son, not as widely as usual and much softer, and Marianne could tell that she was not lying. Bog, as if he could feel his mother’s gaze, turned to her and frowned before turning abruptly back to his cello.  
“Why is Bog so cold to you?” Marianne asked the older woman.  
“Bog doesn’t forgive me for many things that I’ve done in the past,” Griselda chuckled. “But, I suppose, I haven’t forgiven myself either. What matters now is that I can be with him and make sure he’s happy.” Marianne looked at Bog’s mother in astonishment. The older woman was sitting quite happily in her chair, legs swinging at least a few inches from the ground, eyes locked on her son. “Do be good to him, dear,” Griselda suddenly continued, still never looking away from Bog. “He deserves the happiness you can give him.”  
“We are not dating,” Marianne objected quickly, frowning at the ruination of the moment. With a huff, she looked away from Bog’s mother and decided that Griselda King was not as deep as previously thought. Love is for spineless, stupid people, Marianne thought in frustration, and merely stewed in her seat until one of the tech gurus yelled, “Quiet in the studio, please! Let’s get this song started!”  
Marianne looked at Bog, who was taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders before placing his bow on the strings expectantly. Mr. Steele had his arms up, baton in hand, and waited there for what seemed like an eternity. It was, as Bog would’ve had it, the calm before the storm. Mr. Steele’s hands flicked down and the brass immediately began playing a long, low note that resonated in Marianne’s chest. She sat up straight in her chair as the woodwinds began playing a haunting melody against that long, low note, and the combined efforts sounded almost like a pipe organ. The chorale continued for about a minute before the conductor cut the sections off at the end of the high melody, and then there was a painstaking moment of silence before Marianne heard soft plucking.   
It was Bog, plucking that melody from the chorale, only in a major key; it sounded much better than the twisted and dark melody that it had been before. Then Bog placed his bow on the strings, and the melody was immediately put back into the minor key, with crunching and sliding galore. It almost made Marianne want to put her hands over her ears, but the violins all began to start playing, and getting gradually louder, continuing the happier, lighter melody that Bog had started out with. It became a duel, the low brass joining Bog’s dark side while the woodwinds flipped and danced around the violin’s melody. The violas began adding small trills and Marianne hadn’t noticed their own melody until it decided to join the war between the violins and the cellos. It was mellow and sweet and it was both its own separate strain, but also an addition to the violin’s beautiful melody.   
The crunching, churning, distorted melody of the cellos and low voices was beginning to fade, more and more of the instruments adding their own voices to what Marianne was now beginning to deem the actual melody of the piece; a beautiful, airy little song that reminded her of running through meadows and ducking around trees, picking up mushrooms and flowers. Bog’s eyes were closed and his head was thrown back in an ecstasy that was taking Marianne’s breath away. Finally, he was the only one still trying to play the minor version of the melody, and the happy tune played by the rest of the orchestra slowly, slowly faded away until Bog’s very soft, low E was the only note being played. It, too, slowly faded and after what seemed like an eternity to Marianne, the conductor slowly lowered his hands to his sides.   
The orchestra burst into applause, excited whooping, and whistles as Bog slowly retracted the cello’s endpin and rose from his chair. He shook Mr. Steele’s hand and walked over to Marianne and Griselda.  
“What’d you think, Tough Girl?” Bog wouldn’t have admitted it to himself, but he was nervous to hear this high-society girl’s opinion of his piece. He accredited it to the fact that her father was indeed the one producing that recording.   
“Bog, that was…” Marianne trailed off, trying to find the words to describe what she’d just heard. “That was amazing.”  
“You did wonderfully, my precious boy!” Griselda approached and hugged her son around his waist, which was about as high as she could reach. Marianne saw Bog’s expression soften a bit and he wrapped his free arm around the woman and squeezed slightly.  
“Thanks, mother,” Bog mumbled, walking over to his case and putting his cello away. Marianne trailed a bit behind him, scratching her arm a bit nervously. “I’m glad you liked it,” Bog muttered while putting his cello in his case and zipping it up. “I was thinking about writing something for the quartet to perform at the Banff International String Quartet Competition and it’s always good to have the performer listen to a bit of the composer’s style.”  
“What, you think we can’t handle it?” Marianne grinned as the man heaved the heavy instrument onto his shoulder and finally turned to face her.  
“Only you,” Bog sniffed, beginning to walk to the studio door. “You say you’re such a tough girl, but I have yet to be impressed.”  
“Well then, hold onto your socks,” Marianne crossed her arms as the two made their way back up the stairs, trailing a beaming Griselda. “Once we get done with this gig, I get to pick what and where we play next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this chapter is a bit short, but that's mostly in compensation for the next chapter, which will be rather long. I may post the next chapter a little earlier than next week to make up for the short one too, but that depends on if I have the time. XD I'm teaching TEN students on top of my 15 credits, so my schedule just got a lot busier. Never fear! I've been writing in my (little) spare time and have plenty of chapters that can be posted! It's a bit weird writing what I am and then reading these past chapters...everything is so happy now compared to what I've got written! I don't have a basis for the song that Bog wrote in this chapter...I just thought something like that would sound cool. Any guesses on where Marianne will have the quartet play next? ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the quartet's first gig, Sunny Day, and a new character (finally)!

The next week’s rehearsal had gone without a hitch, and Stuff and Thang had been incredibly interested in commissioning a piece from Bog, as well as the Banff International String Quartet Competition. That Saturday was an event called the Spring Ball, at which Strange Music would be providing some background music for the dinner portion. The players were, of course, invited to stay afterwards for dancing and socialization, but Marianne did not particularly have a choice in the matter as her father was the one who was hosting it. Though Arthur had not had a say in the choice of entertainment, Sunny had talked the young debutante who was supposed to arrange for a quartet into going with Dawn’s quartet over another rather well-known upper-crust quartet known as the Knights’ Army. Marianne was particularly grateful for this, as the Knights’ Army had been the quartet she had started several years ago with her ex-fiancé. Marianne was trying to dig her way through these dark thoughts when a gentle knock drew her attention to her bedroom door.   
“You may come in,” Marianne called, already dressed in a short black-and-white dress with tall boots and black tights. Dawn entered with a huge smile on her face, trailed by Sunny, who looked much less enthusiastic.  
“Hey, Marianne!” Dawn beamed at her sister and immediately began running a brush from Marianne’s vanity table through her hair. “Are you ready for the dance yet?”  
“Well, yeah,” Marianne rolled her eyes and gestured to her outfit.   
“You’re going…like that?” Dawn pointed at Marianne’s dress with barely concealed disgust. “Good luck getting asked to dance!”  
“I’m not dancing,” Marianne replied quickly, with a small chuckle.   
“Well, I’m going to dance with the most perfect guy!” Dawn pumped her fist in the air excitedly and turned to Sunny. “Speaking of which…what did you have planned?”  
“Well, I’ve made it so when the DJ starts playing the dancing music, you’ll ‘accidentally’ bump into Hadrian,” Sunny winked at the girl and nudged her with his elbow.  
“Oh, you’re the best, Sunny!” Dawn squealed, throwing her arms around the small man. “Tonight is going to be perfect!” Marianne let out a small laugh and shook her head.  
“It already is,” Sunny sighed dreamily. He had secretly admired his client ever since he had first seen her, and now…the only way to be her close friend was to be exactly that, which meant setting Dawn up with other men. Sunny had been getting tired of this charade, however. He decided that he would tell Dawn how he felt, not tonight, but soon…as soon as he worked up his courage and decided what exactly he was going to say.  
“Wait a minute,” Dawn pushed away from Sunny and his heart stopped momentarily. “Hadrian? I don’t have a crush on him.”  
“Who, then?” Marianne asked before Sunny could stammer out a response, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. “Aaron? Benjamin? Charles? Darren? I’m going in alphabetical order, if that helps.”  
“I really—” Dawn shot a glare at Marianne before continuing. “—have a crush on Nathan.” She sighed dreamily, and Sunny heaved a huge sigh.   
“Now I gotta find Hadrian and get him to stand in the new place and get Nathan to stand in the old place that Hadrian was standing in, and—” Sunny’s muttered plans were suddenly cut off by a gasp from Dawn.  
“What if he doesn’t like me?” she moaned, holding her head in her hands. Marianne smirked to herself and stuck a silver hoop earring into her earlobe.  
“Hey, snap out of it!” Sunny took Dawn’s hands abruptly, forcing her to look into his face. “It’s like I always say: Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, cause every little thing, gonna be alright!”  
“In the wise words of Bob Marley,” Marianne laughed, putting in her other earring. However, Sunny’s words did cheer Dawn up, as she looked at the man and smiled at him.  
“You’re right, Sunny,” Dawn chirped, still grabbing his hand and leading him out of Marianne’s room. “We’ll see you downstairs, Marianne!”  
“Yeah,” Marianne replied with a small smile, and she sat on the edge of her bed looking at her violin. I know he’s probably going to be here…will I still be able to play? She was beginning to despair when a heavy knock fell on her open door. She looked up and was surprised to see Bog, Stuff, and Thang all peering in at her.   
“Hey Marianne!” Stuff beamed at the girl, looking lovely in a short black pencil skirt and a lacy black top over a white camisole. “Your dad told us to leave our cases in here. Hope that’s okay!”  
“Yeah, that’s fine!” Marianne shook her head a bit to clear it and beckoned the group inside. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. So, I’m going to have to walk into the party with my dad and sister first, so we can introduce ourselves and make formal announcements and stuff. Then I’ll come down and join you guys and we can start. Is that okay?” Marianne could tell that she was rambling, a bad habit that occurred when she was nervous, but Stuff and Thang just nodded contentedly. Bog, on the other hand…  
“You okay?” Bog asked, looking directly into her eyes. He’d felt very uncomfortable downstairs, walking through several people who had already arrived and others who were setting up tables and chairs, but Marianne looked more than just uncomfortable. Marianne was startled, but she could see the concern in the cellist’s eyes.  
“Yes,” she murmured, and she suddenly did feel better with the other three members of the quartet there to help her get through the night. “I think that I’m going to be just fine.” She smiled to prove it, earning a nod from Bog.   
“So, are we going to Haydn and Mozart tonight, or just Haydn?” Thang asked Bog cheerfully, rosining his bow and blissfully unaware of the cellist’s irritated expression. Had he not had his back to Bog, or had he glanced over in time to see Stuff wince, Thang definitely would’ve been able to avoid the rough shove of his shoulder that came from Bog.  
“Of course we’re playing Mozart and Haydn,” Bog growled, causing the violist to shrink back a bit. “Or else we wouldn’t have practiced them both.” He was about to let loose a stream of reasoning and insults on Thang when Bog felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Marianne, who was shaking her head slightly. It filled Bog with a feeling he had not recognized since he’d accidentally led his mother’s cat out to the bog that surrounded their yard despite her warnings when he was nine; it was a feeling of guilt, something he definitely hadn’t felt towards his actions regarding Thang.  
“As soon as we get tuned, you guys can head downstairs,” Marianne addressed the whole quartet and took her hand off of Bog’s shoulder. “I set up some chairs for us. We’ll be right outside of the tea room, and everybody will be eating and dancing in the foyer.”  
“You guys should see me dance,” Stuff smiled, bringing her violin down from her chin for a moment and doing a little spin.  
“I’d love to!” Thang beamed back at the girl as he finally brought his viola up to his chin, nodding to Marianne that he was ready to tune. She glanced around her room and saw that Bog was merely standing, not pulling the endpin out of his cello so he wouldn’t have to sit down in order to tune it. She waited for him to immediately leap upon his opportunity to take charge of the group, but Bog merely looked at her, and Marianne started in shock.  
“Go ahead,” Bog nodded at the violinist in irritation, and Marianne’s tuning A was a bit shakier than she intended it to be. She took a deep breath and steadied her hands, grinning when she realized that Bog had been trying to make her feel at ease, and was none too pleased when she failed to pick up on it. Marianne studied the cellist as he bent over to crack a peg down, then up, in order to tune his instrument. He was actually wearing dress pants, something she didn’t think that she’d see, and a smooth black tie with a black pinstriped vest. The only thing that seemed out of place on his person was a thick black cord that appeared above his white collar, yet disappeared beneath his shirt at the nape of his neck. As if he could feel her gaze, Bog whipped his head up to glance at Marianne, then straightened. He adjusted the collar of his shirt until Marianne could no longer see the necklace. Maybe it’s just dog tags, she thought, quickly turning her scrutiny to the carpeted floor beneath her feet. Or a locket? A shark’s tooth, maybe? Marianne snorted with laughter as she imagined the overly tall, serious man on a surfboard.  
“Something amusing you, Princess?” Bog’s voice rumbled out, breaking Marianne’s composure as she full-on laughed, placing a hand on her knee so that she didn’t fall over. Stuff gave Marianne an odd look, but Thang awkwardly tried to join the laughter in an attempt to make Marianne feel better.   
“Sorry, guys,” Marianne breathed heavily now, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m ready to go now. I’ll show you where we’re sitting, but then I’ll have to leave, so don’t be intimidated.”  
“Nobody can imitate us, Marianne!” Thang puffed his chest out proudly, Stuff facepalmed, and Bog just sighed in exasperation.  
“Just follow Marianne, Thang,” Bog grumbled, picking up his cello and his rock stop and whipping past the other two members to stand behind Marianne. He was definitely cranky now, faced with the prospect of the members of high-society that his father had always adored. He saw Marianne turn and give him what he took was to be a reassuring smile. You don’t know the half of it, Tough Girl, he thought irately, but it was more than Stuff and Thang had ever done, as they never seemed to notice his unease. Marianne led the group from her bedroom to a long corridor that opened up to a balcony that overlooked the foyer. Bog could vaguely remember the route from being shown into Marianne’s room with Stuff and Thang, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to what the guide that may have been a maid was saying. Near the end of the balcony was a stair that led down to where the tea room was situated, and then the grand stair that led to the foyer, where there were several long tables were set up with so many seats that they looked like ants to Bog. The balcony continued to wrap around the perimeter of the house, and on the area that was above the tea room, Arthur and Dawn were apparently waiting for Marianne and surveying the gathering crowd just inside the front doors.  
“Well, this is where I’m going to have to leave you,” Marianne said with a smile, surveying the looks on who she now considered to be friends. Stuff was barely containing her excitement, but was warily glancing over at Thang, who was surveying the whole foyer with a large grin. Bog had a polite yet obviously strained smile on his face, but Marianne barely had time to squeeze his hand reassuringly before Arthur spotted her and started calling for her. “I’ll be right down, as quickly as I can. Remember, we’re supposed to be having fun!” Marianne turned quickly and with a wave, started jogging around the balcony to where Arthur and Dawn were standing.   
“Don’t run, dearest,” Arthur chided his daughter fondly. “What would the ladies of the upper crust say?” Marianne elbowed her father.  
“Don’t worry, dad,” she replied softly, taking a deep breath and letting it woosh out in a harsh exhale. “They’ve already told me several times that I’m incorrigible.”  
“Don’t forget to smile, dear,” Arthur turned to Marianne as he linked arms with her and Dawn and they set off for one of the staircases to descend to the second level. Marianne shot him a very strained smile with a weak noise that he guessed was a stab at laughter. Arthur gave Marianne a sideways glare instead, and muttered through his teeth, “A real smile.”  
“This is one of my better ones,” Marianne retorted, gesturing vaguely at that sorry excuse for a smile. Arthur felt that familiar pang in his chest, a reminder that his child was growing up, and growing up unhappy.  
“You used to love the Spring Ball,” Arthur urged his daughter, waving at some of the individuals who had noticed the trio descending the stairs.  
“Dad, I’m just too old for this,” Marianne hedged, following her father’s suit and waving.  
“I just want to see the happy Marianne that I used to know,” Arthur sighed wistfully and pulled his hand down to pat Marianne’s. “Before the…the Roland misunderstanding.”  
“I’m happy!” Marianne protested quickly. “I’m…happy…” she murmured again, as if trying to convince herself of the fact.  
“Well, I hope you’re happy enough to dance with your father,” Arthur gave Marianne a broad smile and squeezed Dawn’s hand, who squealed and practically ran over to a young man who was standing by the head of one of the long tables. Marianne was about to break away from her father and join the expectant quartet when suddenly, she heard a voice that she had always hoped she’d never have to hear again.  
“Or maybe,” the voice interjected, continuing her father’s offer. “Someone…even better.” Marianne’s eyes slowly rose to rest on a very handsome, very well-dressed young man with a flashing smile and gleaming blonde hair.  
“Roland!” Marianne gasped, instinctively taking a step backwards, before deciding against running away and stalking instead towards the quartet, who were all giving her very confused looks as the man followed her.   
“Woah, oh, oh, here I am,” Roland began singing, his voice taking on a Southern twang that Marianne found so revolting she was having trouble keeping her lunch down. “Down on my knees again!” He was dressed in what looked like a very expensive green-and-gold silk suit, which made Marianne doubt that he was actually going to kneel. She was doing her best to avoid looking at the man, picking up her violin and avoiding the gazes of her fellow string players, but she did spare an angry glare for her father, who she assumed knew about Roland’s attendance. “I’d do-o anything…just to make it right,” the man continued, curling a golden bang around his finger and then looking yearningly at Marianne.  
“I’m so onto that hair thing,” she growled at the man and finally looked up. Stuff was glaring at Roland, and Thang was actually blowing raspberries at the man. But Bog…Bog was literally sneering at the man, lips pulled back in a snarl and hands clenched into fists. Marianne was flooded with a wave of relief; they were defending her honor, in their own ways, something that she wasn’t always assured of with her father or her sister.  
“Say you’ll understand,” Roland still had the gall to continue, and was ignoring the crowd of guests that were looking at him like he was a lunatic, the rest of the quartet, and the disapproving glare of Arthur Primrose. “Oh! I know you can…C’mon, Marianne.”  
“You sing even worse than you play the violin,” Marianne sneered at Roland. “I didn’t think it was possible. Get out of here, Roland. I’m not anything to you anymore, and I’m not going back on anything that was said when we broke off the engagement.”  
“It was one little mistake, darlin’,” Roland drawled, reaching a hand out to touch Marianne’s hand. She smacked it away with an indignant gasp.  
“Little?!” Marianne screeched, getting up out of her chair, still clutching her violin. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here!” She lifted the violin to her chin and the opening lines of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger rang, cold and clear, through the foyer’s spacious room. Marianne knew the song incredibly well and she sang the lyrics in her head. Right when she started into the chorus of the song, however, she was surprised to hear bass notes furiously being bowed along with her melody and looked over to see Bog glaring at Roland with such hatred it nearly took her breath away. After Bog joined her, it wasn’t long before Stuff and Thang hopped in, weaving in and out of the melodies and harmonies. Marianne’s bow attacked the strings with a fury, rosin clouds puffing out and dissipating into the air every time she whacked the bow back down on the strings. As she began the second verse, Roland suddenly butted in with his own violin, no doubt given to him by one of his three minions standing behind him. The triplets had stuck to Roland like glue since they first transferred to the private music conservatory that Marianne had attended instead of a public high school, and they were his backup even now as Roland started up another chorus of C’mon Marianne. It was Strange Music versus Knights’ Army, and it was a showdown that even the members of the high society couldn’t resist. The triplets had all brought the instruments that they needed, and quickly got situated in order to back Roland up, but their music was shaky and often out of time. Roland was so focused on being the center of attention that he left the triplets to figure out the music, rhythm, and harmonies on their own.   
Marianne was fed up with Roland’s arrogance at this point, and while Strange Music played on like a well-oiled machine, she advanced on the man. With every step that she took, Roland took a step back until he was backed against the doors and was forced to put his instrument down. Marianne stopped playing and held up a hand for the other quartet members to stop playing. She glared down at Roland, who had by now abandoned hope of winning her over tonight and was now frantically trying to open the front doors. The triplets were scrambling to get their instruments back in their cases to follow Roland out, but it was too late.  
“It’s time to say goodbye, Roland,” Marianne hissed at the man and pushed the doors open behind him, causing him to fall on his behind on the front porch. She pulled the doors back closed and dusted her hands off. “Bye-bye!” she chirped with a false cheer, before turning back to the room full of high-society ladies and gentlemen who were all staring at her, stunned. “Now we’re having fun!” Marianne exclaimed, beaming smile on her face and a bit of sweat trickling down her face from her hairline. The room was so quiet that she could hear some guests shifting their weight from foot to foot.  
“Awkward,” Dawn murmured through clenched teeth, her arm now looped through the arm of a handsome young man that was seated at a different table. Marianne huffed a sigh of annoyance and turned back to her quartet. Stuff was smiling, teeth a bit overcrowded, Thang was laughing quietly to himself and shaking his head, and Bog was giving her an odd look of pleasure and admiration. Marianne’s heart swelled; they were helping her to feel better already and she hadn’t even talked to them yet. A sharp sound made Marianne jump and whirl around, causing her retreat to the quartet to pause for a moment. It was someone clapping, alone at first, before the rest of the guests joined in and began to smile.  
“What a lovely performance!” a particular older gentleman smiled at Marianne and shook her hand. “I daresay you’ve brought some life back into this party, my dear!” Marianne beamed back and took a bow, then gesturing to the other members of the quartet, who startled and stood up with many scuffles, bowing with the violinist. As Marianne sat down and looked around the semicircle to smile and scrutinize each musician, she wondered why she had ever stopped playing in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally get to see Roland! It won't be the last time, either... DUN DUN DUUUNNNN! I hope I made him enough of an asshole...but there's a reason why Bog was really giving Roland the stink eye...I took a bit of liberty in the next chapter. Speaking of which, this is a pretty long one! I hope it makes up for the shorter chapter last week. But I've kind of taken a lot of my favorite female characters into account while writing Marianne, just because I want her to be more than is just shown in the movie...I guess that's true for all of the characters. Please let me know what you did / didn't like, I love reading your comments! See you guys next chapter! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm the mello_cellist! I've also been posting this fic on fanfiction.net, and there's actually more uploaded on that site. I will be transferring it onto AO3, but it will still be available on fanfiction! Thank you for reading and please don't hesitate to leave a comment or a review, or PM me your thoughts! I'm going to be finishing this fic before I start anything else, but I do have a lot of ideas for fics to work on after this! Again, thank you for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!


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